“Can I help with anything?”I ask for what must be the tenth time.
I’m awkwardly hanging out in the massive kitchen of Priest and Luna’s incredible home. Yesterday was so busy that I didn’t get the grand tour. I can see why. There wouldn’t have been time to take me through the sprawling estate, room by room. Let’s just say the kitchen is the size of my apartment times three.
And there’s even a scullery kitchen off to the side that makes the tiny kitchen I’ve been using for years look like the toy version Svetlana got for me from a yard sale when I was a girl.
“We’ve got this,” Luna assures me as she brushes olive oil and freshly pressed garlic onto the dough she’s rolled into breadsticks on her cookie sheet. “Please, just sit and enjoy yourself. Right, Isla?”
“Right,” Isla agrees. “It’s the perfect chance for us to all catch up.”
They’ve both been incredibly kind and welcoming, especially considering I’m the sister of the man who was responsible for taking Isla hostage. They could easily look at me with suspicion, ice me out, keep me confined to a room. But ever since I showed up with my overnight bag and Scorpion abandoned me here for whatever business he and his brothers needed to attend in the city, Luna and Isla have been chatting with me like we’re old friends and seeing to my every need.
“These aren’t exactly the circumstances I had in mind when I thought about getting to know you better,” Luna adds, dabbing some olive oil on another breadstick, “but I guess, if life hands you lemons…”
“Make lemon drops,” Isla finishes.
If I didn’t already know they were besties, the way they finish each other’s sentences would be my first clue.
“Exactly.” Luna grins. “Fabulous idea. Let’s make martinis.”
I think they’re trying very hard not to be worried about their men, who all left here armed to the teeth and looking grim. Not a good sign. But Luna and Isla have been distracting themselves by fawning over me, having lunch on the patio, and now cooking dinner. Priest’s chef was sent home for the evening with the promise that he’ll be back in the morning to make me my smoothie.
“I’ll make the martinis,” I volunteer, needing something to focus on too.
Something to feel useful.
“Perfect.” Luna flashes me a smile. “The bar is in the next room. Make yourself at home. It’s fully stocked, and there’s a fridge and ice maker, glasses, a shaker, whatever you need. If you can’t find something, just yell.”
I’m not sure I know how to properly make a lemon drop, but I head to the bar anyway, grateful for something to keep myself occupied. Everything is top-shelf and neatly arranged, but then, I didn’t expect any less. The pleasant, homey clinking of cutlery and cooking sounds in the next room are accompanied by laughter. My nerves are wound tight. I’m like a crystal vase being dangled by someone’s fingertips, about to drop and shatter.
The weight of the last two weeks comes tumbling down on me as I pour ingredients into the shaker. A strange sensation is gnawing at my chest that feels a whole lot like worry. Scorpion’s reaction to that call hasn’t been sitting well. He seemed tense and strained. Almost angry.
I shake the martini and then divide it evenly between three glasses. Taking up one in each hand, I return to the kitchen, delivering them to Luna and Isla. Then I fetch mine. They’re waiting for me.
“To new beginnings and new friendships,” Luna announces, raising her glass.
We toast, and I take a sip, wincing. It’s too strong.
“Sorry, ladies,” I apologize. “I’m not the world’s best bartender.”
“It’s perfect,” Isla reassures me, smiling.
She’s blonde to Luna’s dark, but while the two are physical opposites, they seem to have everything else in common. But although they’re presenting a calm, united front, they must be worried about their men disappearing so suddenly.
I’ve distanced myself from my brothers’ business dealings since I was a teenager and I started completely immersing myself in ballet. But I remember the blood, the violence, the danger of this world. The uncertainty. The fear. The knowledge that anything could happen at any time. It’s chased me, haunting me all my life, until one day it reared its ugly head in the form of my brother becoming the new Pakhan.
“Does this happen often?” I blurt, giving voice to the emotions roiling inside me.
Isla takes another sip of her martini. “Don’t ask me. I’m still new around here.”
“Not often,” Luna answers, her expression turning pensive. “But I do my best to take each day as it comes. If a work thing happens, I try not to worry about it until I need to worry about it. Sometimes that’s easier said than done.”
Isla raises her glass. “And sometimes, it’s accomplished with a little help.”
“Priest and the boys are very careful,” Luna adds, and I’m starting to think it’s not just for my benefit, but for Isla’s too. “They don’t take any unnecessary risks.”
I inhale slowly, trying to cling to her words. I don’t even know why I need reassurance. Why I’d worry about a man I didn’t want to marry, a man who held me hostage not long ago and used me as a bargaining chip. Not to mention the times he threatened to do me bodily harm.
But is he as terrible as I think he is? Would these friendly, intelligent women care about him as much as they obviously do if he was a sadistic, dangerous psychopath like Misha? Part of me says no. The other part of me doesn’t trust anything rattling around in my head right now.